As I sat meditating this AM, with my precious kitty on my lap, I understood why it is that most of my life Trust has been such an issue for me. It has to do with the definition the little girl Carol Anne assigned to the word. She thought/thinks that the word implies certainty. If she follows the rules (no negative thinking, no negative talking, no negative feeling) then she can trust (be certain) that her world will be just as she wants it to be all of the time. So my conversation with her over the next few days will be about a new definition, a new understanding of the word. Trust doesn't guarantee anything; it merely says that no matter what happens, who comes and/or goes, who says what or doesn't say what, you know, all those imponderables, NO MATTER WHAT, I will be able to turn within, to the center, to the source, to the She who is within, around, about, above, below, and find there the strength, courage, acceptance and willingness to be present.
Dear readers, thank you for allowing me to be me through it all!
Thanks for it all!
Monday, November 30, 2009
I'm late. . . I'm late . . .
I know, I know, I haven't posted a word since last Friday. No excuses, really, just busy days and how grateful I am that it was so!
Of the days I missed, Saturday was the most significant for the Wolf family as it was the birth date of our dearest brother Baxter. He was fifteen the year I was born and for me the father of the family. I did call his widow, Ruthie, and we spoke of how much we still love him. He has been gone since 1973 and yet his presence still fills my heart with joy when I think of him. How blessed we are to have such people in our lives!
Yesterday, the messages Rev. Judy and Rev. Glenda gave (http://www.embracehumanity.com/ is the site where you can listen to their Sunday talks) carried the theme of Trust. One of the images shown was of a mother swan gathering her babies under her wing. It brought tears to my eyes as I yearned for such a mothering, protecting source - and, of course, it was pointed out several times during the service, that we do, in fact, have such a Presence which is found in the midst of our hearts. How comforting to know that right here, right now, in this moment even as my fingers move across the keyboard, that Presence, which I call "She" is - and that is all I need to know.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
I want to add just one more of the treasures I found as I was doing my reducing, reusing, recycling stuff last week. This was written by one of the very dearest young men of the Psychosynthesis group I belonged to in the '90s. He brought such a clear sense of honor, respect and reverence for the feminine within all of us. I haven't heard from him for ages, I am sorry to say. One of my most precious memories of him was brought back last Thursday night as my son and I attended a basketball game (the Bruins lost!) at the Anaheim Convention Center, for that is where Mitch's graduation took place. He is an O.D. and I am confident, the best in the land. Wherever you are, Mitch, however you are, you are remembered, honored and loved.
Of the days I missed, Saturday was the most significant for the Wolf family as it was the birth date of our dearest brother Baxter. He was fifteen the year I was born and for me the father of the family. I did call his widow, Ruthie, and we spoke of how much we still love him. He has been gone since 1973 and yet his presence still fills my heart with joy when I think of him. How blessed we are to have such people in our lives!
Yesterday, the messages Rev. Judy and Rev. Glenda gave (http://www.embracehumanity.com/ is the site where you can listen to their Sunday talks) carried the theme of Trust. One of the images shown was of a mother swan gathering her babies under her wing. It brought tears to my eyes as I yearned for such a mothering, protecting source - and, of course, it was pointed out several times during the service, that we do, in fact, have such a Presence which is found in the midst of our hearts. How comforting to know that right here, right now, in this moment even as my fingers move across the keyboard, that Presence, which I call "She" is - and that is all I need to know.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
I want to add just one more of the treasures I found as I was doing my reducing, reusing, recycling stuff last week. This was written by one of the very dearest young men of the Psychosynthesis group I belonged to in the '90s. He brought such a clear sense of honor, respect and reverence for the feminine within all of us. I haven't heard from him for ages, I am sorry to say. One of my most precious memories of him was brought back last Thursday night as my son and I attended a basketball game (the Bruins lost!) at the Anaheim Convention Center, for that is where Mitch's graduation took place. He is an O.D. and I am confident, the best in the land. Wherever you are, Mitch, however you are, you are remembered, honored and loved.
The Elder
"She sits in the misty forest. An eerie glow of soft white surrounds her frail cloaked frame. As I draw nearer, her face reveals a complexion weathered and wrinkled over immeasurable lifetimes, marked by the fathomless depth of two inky black eyes that dance with the light of the universe.
A faint half smile plays on her lips as she invites me to sit. Long ancient fingers guide my settling body down to rest. She looks at me with the knowledge of a mother, a father, a brother, a lover. She is me and I am her. In answer to my question, she silently encourages me to love in as many ways as I can, to explore the depth of my heart . . . and then I will know what is unknowable.
With a faint gesture, the smile dances on her face as the depth of her eyes draws me back to myself."
I trust (!) that your day, this hour, this moment, will be holy and love-filled for you and yours!
As we all say: "Thanks for it all!"
Friday, November 27, 2009
Memories of 55 years ago today!
Did I mention earlier this week that on Wednesday, the 25th, my "baby" turned 50? And that, today, my firstborn son turns 55? As I was journaling this morning, the words that came regarding Brent's birthday were "Wow! How did it get here so fast?"
And, as we are want to do, I remember back to the few weeks/days before his birth. I was 22 at the time; so happy and anxious to be a mother. My doctor had been recommended by a friend and we had, I thought, a pretty good relationship. Brent was due to be born in mid-November and as the days stretched on, at one of my weekly appointments, I asked the doctor what to expect. He looked at me in a rather dumb-founded way and explained that when labor started, my stomach would get as hard as a rock and it would feel like menstral cramps. Nary a word about a mucuous (sp?) plug! On the day before his birth, I noticed this jelly-like substance when I wiped myself. "What's this?" I asked myself. I called my friend and she explained what it was and not to be disturbed by it. Soon thereafter, the "cramps" started and off to the hospital we went. It was a maternity hospital in North Hollywood (we lived in Pacoima at the time). I went through the prep - enema and shaving - and the nurse gave me some sort of a self-applied anesthesia that was strapped to my wrist. The idea being that as the pain started, I would breath in the whatever it was that would temporarily put me under and when I was really under, my hand would automatically fall away and I would come back to full consciousness. I was attending a Religious Science church at the time and the minister had given me an affirmation to say about how there was no pain, etc. As the labor progressed, the pain did, too, to such a degree that when it started, I was too scared to properly administer the anesthetic. I can remember crying out "Won't somebody do something to help me?". I was in a labor room with other women as I recall. I don't remember being wheeled into the delivery room - I don't remember exactly but I think I was given a "saddle block" that numbed me and then told to push and push and push again. And then, he was there! That precious baby boy!
In those days, the hospital stay was 5, yes 5! days - and I shared a room with a woman who was 40 and whose grown daughter came to see her to tell her she herself was pregnant. Interesting times, for sure. I remember getting up to take a shower and not knowing if I was suppoed to take off the sanitary napkin belt or not. I decided not to and later, when the doctor examined me, instructed me to be sure to thoroughly wash myself so the stitches would be cleansed! I was embarassed!
When I compared my birth experience with that of my granddaughter who birthed a son in June, in a room at a hospital in Newport Beach where the large room she occupied was labor, delivery and post-delivery room, all in one. She had a natal monitor; had an epideral (sp?) drip going when her Mom and I arrived to see her; her husband and two best friends were also there in the room until about two, two and a half hours before he was born. And she went home within 48 hours of his birth. My, how times have changed!
And yet the wonder, the awe, the mystery and the miracle of giving birth remains the same. How grateful I am that it is so!
I send these words off to you, dear readers, trusting that your Thanksgiving was just that - full of giving Thanks!
Thank for it all!
And, as we are want to do, I remember back to the few weeks/days before his birth. I was 22 at the time; so happy and anxious to be a mother. My doctor had been recommended by a friend and we had, I thought, a pretty good relationship. Brent was due to be born in mid-November and as the days stretched on, at one of my weekly appointments, I asked the doctor what to expect. He looked at me in a rather dumb-founded way and explained that when labor started, my stomach would get as hard as a rock and it would feel like menstral cramps. Nary a word about a mucuous (sp?) plug! On the day before his birth, I noticed this jelly-like substance when I wiped myself. "What's this?" I asked myself. I called my friend and she explained what it was and not to be disturbed by it. Soon thereafter, the "cramps" started and off to the hospital we went. It was a maternity hospital in North Hollywood (we lived in Pacoima at the time). I went through the prep - enema and shaving - and the nurse gave me some sort of a self-applied anesthesia that was strapped to my wrist. The idea being that as the pain started, I would breath in the whatever it was that would temporarily put me under and when I was really under, my hand would automatically fall away and I would come back to full consciousness. I was attending a Religious Science church at the time and the minister had given me an affirmation to say about how there was no pain, etc. As the labor progressed, the pain did, too, to such a degree that when it started, I was too scared to properly administer the anesthetic. I can remember crying out "Won't somebody do something to help me?". I was in a labor room with other women as I recall. I don't remember being wheeled into the delivery room - I don't remember exactly but I think I was given a "saddle block" that numbed me and then told to push and push and push again. And then, he was there! That precious baby boy!
In those days, the hospital stay was 5, yes 5! days - and I shared a room with a woman who was 40 and whose grown daughter came to see her to tell her she herself was pregnant. Interesting times, for sure. I remember getting up to take a shower and not knowing if I was suppoed to take off the sanitary napkin belt or not. I decided not to and later, when the doctor examined me, instructed me to be sure to thoroughly wash myself so the stitches would be cleansed! I was embarassed!
When I compared my birth experience with that of my granddaughter who birthed a son in June, in a room at a hospital in Newport Beach where the large room she occupied was labor, delivery and post-delivery room, all in one. She had a natal monitor; had an epideral (sp?) drip going when her Mom and I arrived to see her; her husband and two best friends were also there in the room until about two, two and a half hours before he was born. And she went home within 48 hours of his birth. My, how times have changed!
And yet the wonder, the awe, the mystery and the miracle of giving birth remains the same. How grateful I am that it is so!
I send these words off to you, dear readers, trusting that your Thanksgiving was just that - full of giving Thanks!
Thank for it all!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The day before Thanks-giving day!
Wonderful smells of cinnamon and nutmeg as the pumpkin pies bake in the oven. Dressing preparations underway and the silver polished, the crystal wineglassses washed, as well as the tablecloth and napkins. Oh, those precious memories of Thanksgivings past when I was the one hosting/hostessing the dinner for the Marshall family. And now, we meet at Brian's and Jeannie's home; she is the one preparing the turkey and baking the pies. And the rest of us bring all the wonderfully delicious side-dishes. I can hardly wait for tomorrow! ! !
As I extend to each of you, dear readers, my best wishes for a most thankful day, I conclude this post with the most remarkable words of Dinah Crail, dated 1859, with the heart-felt prayer that you are the person she speaks of to someone in your life and that you have someone in your life to be that person for you.
"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person,
having neither is weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them out,
chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness,
blow the rest away."
Giving thanks for you in my life, each and every day, I say again and again
Thanks for it all! ! !
As I extend to each of you, dear readers, my best wishes for a most thankful day, I conclude this post with the most remarkable words of Dinah Crail, dated 1859, with the heart-felt prayer that you are the person she speaks of to someone in your life and that you have someone in your life to be that person for you.
"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person,
having neither is weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them out,
chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness,
blow the rest away."
Giving thanks for you in my life, each and every day, I say again and again
Thanks for it all! ! !
Monday, November 23, 2009
So what does it all mean anyway?
As I have mentioned previously, I am not feeling quite as upbeat as I would like to - and as I journaled early this morning, the idea came that being however I am is quite all right. My life turns in circles and cycles, just as all of our lives do so it seems to me the most loving thing I can do for me, my body, my spirit and my life is to embrace all of it as completely and wholly (and holy) as I can each moment of the day.
Well, that said . . . now I would like to share with you another one of those treasures I found in my folder marked "CoDA stuff".
Well, that said . . . now I would like to share with you another one of those treasures I found in my folder marked "CoDA stuff".
Letting Go
To "let go" does not mean to stop caring, it means I can't do it for someone else.
To "let go" is not to cut myself off, it's the realisation that I can't control another.
To "let go" is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To "let go" is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another, it's to make the most of myself.
To "let go" is not to care for, but to care about.
To "let go" is not to fix, but to be supportive.
To "let go" is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.
To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their own destinies.
To "let go" is not to be protective, it's to permit another to face reality.
To "let go" is not to deny, but to accept.
To "let go" is not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires
but to take each day as it comes, and cherish myself in it.
To "let go" is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.
To "let go" is to fear less and love more.
- Love Unlimited
Gosh, if I really took all those words in and made them part of my spiritual practice each and every day, the shift would be momentous, wouldn't it? Time to practice what I preach, eh? And, of course, to say. . .
Thanks for it all!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Another treasure found!
Written by Susan marie Doyle, 1988:
The Universe yet incomplete on the sixth day
God created her
WOMAN
and God said to her
I shall give to you
A Heart full of Compassion
A Spirit free to Fly with the birds
A Vessel to carry Life into the world
Wisdom to know great truths
Courage to rise out of oppression
Strength to move mountains
Gentleness to kiss the earth
Passion to set the world on fire
Vision to respect the earth that bore you
A playful nature to Dance with the Children
Laugher to fill the valleys
Tears to wash the pain away
Hands for laboring and loving
Intuition to know the unknown
Desire to be that which you were created to be
and God said to her
WOMAN
I have created you in my Image and Likeness and
YOU ARE GOOD.
Thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to share these treasures with you. Some of them I haven't read for a very long time and it is like greeting dear, dear friends to read the words again.
Thank you.
Yesterday was a memorable day for a memorial service for the father of one of my dearest friends. Family members shared his history, his dreams, and the effect he had on each of their lives. Friends spoke of his influence and the impact his presence had on their lives. It was a love-filled time and I am grateful to have been a witness to it.
I don't know exactly when the shift occurred between funerals being church services and memorial services being a celebration of life and I do know I heartly embrace the change. I hope you do, too.
And so, dear ones, we come to the end of another week. I pray and trust that, for you, it was one in which you can heartily and thankfully say "Thanks for it all!"
The Universe yet incomplete on the sixth day
God created her
WOMAN
and God said to her
I shall give to you
A Heart full of Compassion
A Spirit free to Fly with the birds
A Vessel to carry Life into the world
Wisdom to know great truths
Courage to rise out of oppression
Strength to move mountains
Gentleness to kiss the earth
Passion to set the world on fire
Vision to respect the earth that bore you
A playful nature to Dance with the Children
Laugher to fill the valleys
Tears to wash the pain away
Hands for laboring and loving
Intuition to know the unknown
Desire to be that which you were created to be
and God said to her
WOMAN
I have created you in my Image and Likeness and
YOU ARE GOOD.
Thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to share these treasures with you. Some of them I haven't read for a very long time and it is like greeting dear, dear friends to read the words again.
Thank you.
Yesterday was a memorable day for a memorial service for the father of one of my dearest friends. Family members shared his history, his dreams, and the effect he had on each of their lives. Friends spoke of his influence and the impact his presence had on their lives. It was a love-filled time and I am grateful to have been a witness to it.
I don't know exactly when the shift occurred between funerals being church services and memorial services being a celebration of life and I do know I heartly embrace the change. I hope you do, too.
And so, dear ones, we come to the end of another week. I pray and trust that, for you, it was one in which you can heartily and thankfully say "Thanks for it all!"
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Other treasures found
In years' past, I wrote letters to my women friends on Mother's Day and at Christmas. This is one I found going through files yesterday, written for Christmas 1993.
And this, a reading that was included in my CoDA meetings:
Prayer of the Person: (Author unknown)
The person across from you is the greatest miracle and the greatest mystery in this moment - a testament to God's continuing creation and presence in the world.
The person across from you is an inexhaustible reservoir of possibility, with potentialities only partially realized.
The person across from you is a unique universe of experience - of possibility and necessity, laughter and tears, love and indifference, hopes and fears - all struggling for expression.
The person across from you believes in something - something precious; stands for something, lives for something, labors for something, waits for something, runs for something, runs towards something.
The person across from you is not perfect - often feels disappointed, is often undecided and disorganized and woefully close to chaos; but is endowed with a tremendous inner strength and is capable of surviving great difficulties and persecutions.
The person across from you is a community of persons - persons met during a lifetime. Each carries with them a mother and father, student and teacher, brother and sister, enemy and friend.
The person across from you does some things like no one else in the world. There is something this one life on eartth means and cares for - will that person dare speak of it to you?
The person across from you is more description that explanation. The person across from you is MYSTERY made in God's image, never tobe fully understood.
Look before you and wtihin you - look around - for God is indeed among us!
As I mentioned yesterday about a writing that came to me "author unknown", if any of you knows who wrote these magnificent words, please be sure to post a comment so the author can be duly recognized and honored.
Thank you, my dear sisters - for your most precious eyes that read these words.
I am so grateful!
Thanks for it all!
Ceremonial Woman
I see her from a distance, across the room.
Breath stops - heart skips - knees buckle.
Sweeness. The scent of roses?
Something familiar - a remembrance
like wisps of smoke, seen, then not.
Her feet step firmly on the earth, yet lightly
lest harm come to any living thing.
Her heart precedes her
far above, beneath, around, about.
Is it true? Can there be that much love?
Her eyes look, see, embrace the view -
all that is seen dances in the joy of the seen.
Her laugh - tinkling celeste, hearty timpani,
a symphony, every range of sound,
inclusive, draws, entices me in.
Her body, strong in the truth -
interconnected, interdependent.
"We each live each other."
Her truth, now mine, once absent, now clear.
Her soul, her presence, her delight, her accessibility,
her wisdom, her courage, her integrity, her essence.
Mystery entered into the womb of her who births
me, the salmon, the whale, the wolf, the bear,
the tree, the mountain, the hawk, the eagle,
the lake, the stream, the ocean,
the volcano, the glacier -
all that is, born of her.
You, beloved Sister, are she -
Ceremonial Woman.
Blessed are you
and the fruit of your womb.
And this, a reading that was included in my CoDA meetings:
Prayer of the Person: (Author unknown)
The person across from you is the greatest miracle and the greatest mystery in this moment - a testament to God's continuing creation and presence in the world.
The person across from you is an inexhaustible reservoir of possibility, with potentialities only partially realized.
The person across from you is a unique universe of experience - of possibility and necessity, laughter and tears, love and indifference, hopes and fears - all struggling for expression.
The person across from you believes in something - something precious; stands for something, lives for something, labors for something, waits for something, runs for something, runs towards something.
The person across from you is not perfect - often feels disappointed, is often undecided and disorganized and woefully close to chaos; but is endowed with a tremendous inner strength and is capable of surviving great difficulties and persecutions.
The person across from you is a community of persons - persons met during a lifetime. Each carries with them a mother and father, student and teacher, brother and sister, enemy and friend.
The person across from you does some things like no one else in the world. There is something this one life on eartth means and cares for - will that person dare speak of it to you?
The person across from you is more description that explanation. The person across from you is MYSTERY made in God's image, never tobe fully understood.
Look before you and wtihin you - look around - for God is indeed among us!
As I mentioned yesterday about a writing that came to me "author unknown", if any of you knows who wrote these magnificent words, please be sure to post a comment so the author can be duly recognized and honored.
Thank you, my dear sisters - for your most precious eyes that read these words.
I am so grateful!
Thanks for it all!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Clean up, clear out!
I had one of those times, yesterday morning, when it was just . . . well, you know, time to clean up and clear out. I look forward to this time of year, shredding old tax documents and going through other "important" files to see what's in them. I had such a great sense of accomplishment and found some real treasures to boot! I hope you will find some of the following words encouraging, enlightening and helpful.
From Lenore Weir, writtein 7/20/96:
"Returning to the Mother"
"A million years ago, it must have been haunting, as it is to me now. As She is to me now. This giant mother in the wilderness who calls my name in the moonlight, whose voice I hear these many miles away. She must have called to them, too. And that is why they danced there, near the fires, padding down the grassses to leave their mark for me. I wonder, did they dream of Her? Did they hear Her voice in the streams along the way? Did She beckon and tantalize, beseech and taunt, follow them, the way She follows me?"
"A million years ago, I must have laid my hands on these rocks, stroking the crevices in a prayer for safety, for food, for shelter. I must have warmed my weary back against them in the sun, clamored over them at dusk in a hurry to get "home". I must have called these mountains home then. It is the only way I can explain the calling I hear even through the city night sounds. It is the way I know that heart-thumping joy while rounding a band of rough road, seeing Her laying there once again. It is, simply, coming home".
The following was sent to me by way of an email on 11/3/2003, by my niece's daughter, Ginny, who does not cite the author. If any of you know who wrote these beautiful words, please be sure to let me/us know, okay?
"God Says Yes To Me"
"I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I am telling you is
Yes Yes Yes"
I'll close this morning's post with this quote from "Illusions" by Richard Bach as printed on the page for the month of July, in a Hallmark Calendar for the year 1980 (again, let me say how I honor copyright laws and trust that I am not overstepping here).
"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly."
With love and deep appreciation for your eyes that read these words, I say
Thanks for it all!
From Lenore Weir, writtein 7/20/96:
"Returning to the Mother"
"A million years ago, it must have been haunting, as it is to me now. As She is to me now. This giant mother in the wilderness who calls my name in the moonlight, whose voice I hear these many miles away. She must have called to them, too. And that is why they danced there, near the fires, padding down the grassses to leave their mark for me. I wonder, did they dream of Her? Did they hear Her voice in the streams along the way? Did She beckon and tantalize, beseech and taunt, follow them, the way She follows me?"
"A million years ago, I must have laid my hands on these rocks, stroking the crevices in a prayer for safety, for food, for shelter. I must have warmed my weary back against them in the sun, clamored over them at dusk in a hurry to get "home". I must have called these mountains home then. It is the only way I can explain the calling I hear even through the city night sounds. It is the way I know that heart-thumping joy while rounding a band of rough road, seeing Her laying there once again. It is, simply, coming home".
The following was sent to me by way of an email on 11/3/2003, by my niece's daughter, Ginny, who does not cite the author. If any of you know who wrote these beautiful words, please be sure to let me/us know, okay?
"God Says Yes To Me"
"I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I am telling you is
Yes Yes Yes"
I'll close this morning's post with this quote from "Illusions" by Richard Bach as printed on the page for the month of July, in a Hallmark Calendar for the year 1980 (again, let me say how I honor copyright laws and trust that I am not overstepping here).
"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly."
With love and deep appreciation for your eyes that read these words, I say
Thanks for it all!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Wonder where that came from?
I was/am still pretty much surprised by the words that came out of my fingertips yesterday morning. In rereading them, I can hear the voice of the teenage girl, the romantic, the one who believed with all her heart, that "they were happily married ever after" girl. I can see her and embrace her and let her speak her words without hesitation today. She is a part of me, and, as a very wise woman once said to me "You can bring all of you to the Altar". And so I shall.
Of course, there is a much broader meaning to the word "Love" than I wrote of yesterday. My more mature self feels that love is an energy not an emotion; that it is what carries us forward, like that underground river of life-sustaining, life-affirming moisture and nourishment. I can feel it pulsing through me sometimes and am so grateful that it is so.
'nough said!
Thanks for it all!
Of course, there is a much broader meaning to the word "Love" than I wrote of yesterday. My more mature self feels that love is an energy not an emotion; that it is what carries us forward, like that underground river of life-sustaining, life-affirming moisture and nourishment. I can feel it pulsing through me sometimes and am so grateful that it is so.
'nough said!
Thanks for it all!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Honest, at last!
Arriving at the celebration of my 77th trip around the sun last September, I thought I knew myself quite well; had done tons of recovery work; visited professional psychologists and had very recently spoken with two women whom I admire beyond words and yet, reading today's meditation about being open to love, brought me to my senses and to my most honest self. "Be open to love" were the words starring at me from the page. Who? Me? Nope! No way! Now wait a minute, I thought, "What are you telling me, purple-ink pen as you scratch away on the notepaper?". And the words came tumbling out. I can admire men, like men, appreciate men and there are several in my circle of friends whom I do admire, like and appreciate. But be open to loving a man? No. I can't go there again. Way too scarey. Way too much risk. Way too vulnerable. Past experience led me to this conclusion. Past experience left scars. Past experience left me devastated.
So, what now? Now, instead of wondering why the journey of my life has found me living the vast majority of life without male companionship, I have the option of shining another light on the pathway and with wonder and awe, summon up the resolve to look deeper and deeper and so I shall. Fear, that almost forbidden word and idea in some circles, can lead me home if I give my permission for it to do so and I shall!
Whew! After that bit of soul revelation, I have another wonderful experience to share with you this morning, dear readers. A lovely woman came into Common Ground (http://www.embracehumanity.com/) a few weeks ago and I showed her around our facilities. She explained she was in the process of deciding whether or not to move here from Colorado. At the conclusion of our time together, she said she had made up her mind. She would relocate here. We have met several times since and yesterday, after our morning service, she and I went out to breakfast. And you know, it just blew me away! We share so many experiences together! I mentioned Matthew Fox; she said she had attended one of his Cosmic Masses in Boulder, Colorado. I mentioned the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland and she said she had been there many times. The seeming conincidences didn't stop there and I am sure you get the idea. Isn't the journey amazing? How what seemed like a chance meeting has brought the two of us together in the birthing of a friendship born of common experience as well as curiosity in what this moment, this very NOW can bring forth.
Wow! What a wonderful opportunity to say, one more time
Thanks for it all! ! !
So, what now? Now, instead of wondering why the journey of my life has found me living the vast majority of life without male companionship, I have the option of shining another light on the pathway and with wonder and awe, summon up the resolve to look deeper and deeper and so I shall. Fear, that almost forbidden word and idea in some circles, can lead me home if I give my permission for it to do so and I shall!
Whew! After that bit of soul revelation, I have another wonderful experience to share with you this morning, dear readers. A lovely woman came into Common Ground (http://www.embracehumanity.com/) a few weeks ago and I showed her around our facilities. She explained she was in the process of deciding whether or not to move here from Colorado. At the conclusion of our time together, she said she had made up her mind. She would relocate here. We have met several times since and yesterday, after our morning service, she and I went out to breakfast. And you know, it just blew me away! We share so many experiences together! I mentioned Matthew Fox; she said she had attended one of his Cosmic Masses in Boulder, Colorado. I mentioned the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland and she said she had been there many times. The seeming conincidences didn't stop there and I am sure you get the idea. Isn't the journey amazing? How what seemed like a chance meeting has brought the two of us together in the birthing of a friendship born of common experience as well as curiosity in what this moment, this very NOW can bring forth.
Wow! What a wonderful opportunity to say, one more time
Thanks for it all! ! !
Saturday, November 14, 2009
What would life be without music?
As for me, I don't want to find out what a music-less life would be like! Our Common Ground party last night was full of music - the kind that comes out of keyboards and voices singing lyrics without caring who can hear and how we sound! That's my kind of singing, to be sure! And then, of course, there is the music that comes from the heart - laughter, joy, deep appreciation and reverence for the Life we all share. I love my family beyond words, of course and friends - well, friends are the chosen ones - soul-lights that come on and say "Hi! I see you! Come on over and let's share some of our life-journey together!" Of course, family can be friends, too. Please don't think I am ignoring that truth. It's just that, well, I am head over heels in love with my friends and I am so grateful and thankful that it is so.
We sat at tables of 8 and played a mystery game; our ministers (Bless them! Bless them! Bless them!) made sure each of us was recognized, by name, in their amazing skill of rhyming us all together. The food nourished, as food will do and yet the real nourishment came from the glow in the eyes of each one as we greeted, chatted, and just simply enjoyed each other. Oh, what a gift!
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Thanks for it all! ! !
We sat at tables of 8 and played a mystery game; our ministers (Bless them! Bless them! Bless them!) made sure each of us was recognized, by name, in their amazing skill of rhyming us all together. The food nourished, as food will do and yet the real nourishment came from the glow in the eyes of each one as we greeted, chatted, and just simply enjoyed each other. Oh, what a gift!
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Thanks for it all! ! !
Friday, November 13, 2009
A Special Day for Common Grounders!
I know the wisdom of the day says to live in the moment, and yet, as I look at the clock 1:19PM or so my computer says, I am thinking about this evening when our spiritual community will come together to eat, laugh, be merry and just plain enjoy ourselves! This is something we do quite well and I am so grateful to be a part of it all! This will be my third anniversary party, although it is the fifth for Common Ground. Thank you, blessed Angels, for leading me to my spiritual home!
Also, this afternoon, I completed reading, for the fifth, sixth or perhaps seventh time, "Woman Who Run With The Wolves". Each time I read it, I am amazed at the new depths of understanding that I find in Clarissa Pinkola Estes writing. The stories touch me at deeper and deeper levels. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, and each time as I close the book to read again, I am so deeply grateful to my dear friend, Donna, who gifts me with the book at Christmas 1992. Oh, how I hope and pray I have been wise enough to gift my family and friends with such a treasure as this one has been for me.
Thank you, thank you, thanks for it all!
Also, this afternoon, I completed reading, for the fifth, sixth or perhaps seventh time, "Woman Who Run With The Wolves". Each time I read it, I am amazed at the new depths of understanding that I find in Clarissa Pinkola Estes writing. The stories touch me at deeper and deeper levels. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, and each time as I close the book to read again, I am so deeply grateful to my dear friend, Donna, who gifts me with the book at Christmas 1992. Oh, how I hope and pray I have been wise enough to gift my family and friends with such a treasure as this one has been for me.
Thank you, thank you, thanks for it all!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
A day of note
Some days are more noteworthy than others and this day is one of those in the Marshall family. My younger daughter's 3rd son was born this day sixteen years ago. I remember going to the hospital to pick up his older brothers to stay with me overnight and then took them with me to my part-time job in Tustin. I gave them paper and pencil to write stories and/or draw pictures while I did my daily routine.
The first time I held him, he felt so small and fragile in my arms. His family decided to move to the high desert shortly after, and I only saw him once or twice after they moved. And just a month plus five days before his 4th birthday, his soul said "Now!" and off he went to his next great adventure.
Happy Birthday, Dylan! You are remembered and loved and remembered and loved and remembered and loved and . . .
Thanks for it all!
The first time I held him, he felt so small and fragile in my arms. His family decided to move to the high desert shortly after, and I only saw him once or twice after they moved. And just a month plus five days before his 4th birthday, his soul said "Now!" and off he went to his next great adventure.
Happy Birthday, Dylan! You are remembered and loved and remembered and loved and remembered and loved and . . .
Thanks for it all!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The best of times, the worst of times. . .
I hope you have been privileged to sit in the circle of women and bear witness to the awesome power of love and compassion that embraces each woman and the entire circle. I had such an experience yesterday. As I have mentioned a couple of times, I have been in a funk lately - nothing particularly going on - just feeling sad most of the time; tears at the ready. Yesterday in our circle, a remarkable woman sitting next to me mentioned the need for us to be witnessed by someone else and bingo! the light came on! And then, just a few minutes later, a woman who has just relocated here mentioned the loneliness of living alone. Bingo! Another hit! I have lived alone since 1981 when my younger son moved out to share an apartment with a friend. Yes, there have been times when my daughters have moved back in for a short period of time, and while those count in a way, in another way, they don't. It wasn't going to be a permanent life-sharing experience. We understood that the time would come when they would go their way once again and once again, I would be living alone. To be sure I have this most precious kitty (yes, I know, I still need to post a picture of her) named Gray who sits on my lap almost immediately each time I sit in my chair and stays there as long as she can. I talk to her, pet her, tell her how beautiful she is and how thankful I am that she is here sharing her life with me. All that is true, of course, and yet . . . well, it's not quite the same as having someone here who cares, who converses, who offers support, you know what I mean, I'm sure. Yet with the miracle of the words "witness" and "lonely", at least now I have a hook upon which to hang my feelings, identify them and embrace them as wholly and as compassionately as I can. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
The other part of the title about the worst of times came along early last evening when I spoke with my older daughter and she gave me the news that one of her son's very best friends - the one he went fishing with, the one he shared so much of his time with - was killed on Saturday. He was riding in an ATV out in the desert with his girlfriend and another young man who was driving. At a high rate of speed, the driver decided to make a sharp left turn. Shane's friend was thrown from the vehicle, the vehicle turned over onto him and he was killed. What words are there to express the horror, the sorrow, the loss, the unspeakable grief that must arise from his parents, his girlfriend, his friend who was driving, all his other friends as well as my grandson? How do we survive such gruesome deaths? The way we do all the others, I guess, by accepting that Life is fragile, never is the next moment guaranteed and we must never take anyone's presence in our lives for granted. So please, dear readers, reach out and touch the ones you love - tell them so - show them so - and let them love you back. Please! Please! Please!
Thank you.
And yes, even now, thanks for it all!
The other part of the title about the worst of times came along early last evening when I spoke with my older daughter and she gave me the news that one of her son's very best friends - the one he went fishing with, the one he shared so much of his time with - was killed on Saturday. He was riding in an ATV out in the desert with his girlfriend and another young man who was driving. At a high rate of speed, the driver decided to make a sharp left turn. Shane's friend was thrown from the vehicle, the vehicle turned over onto him and he was killed. What words are there to express the horror, the sorrow, the loss, the unspeakable grief that must arise from his parents, his girlfriend, his friend who was driving, all his other friends as well as my grandson? How do we survive such gruesome deaths? The way we do all the others, I guess, by accepting that Life is fragile, never is the next moment guaranteed and we must never take anyone's presence in our lives for granted. So please, dear readers, reach out and touch the ones you love - tell them so - show them so - and let them love you back. Please! Please! Please!
Thank you.
And yes, even now, thanks for it all!
Monday, November 9, 2009
The fourth of five!
I wonder if you will recall, dear readers, that I mentioned on the 4th of November that five of my eleven grandchildren were born from the 4th to the 12th of November? And today is the birthday of my grandson, Grant. He lives in Arizona right now and I haven't seen him since last Christmas. As I journaled this morning, I wrote of/to him and how much I miss hearing from him. I remember, when I was in my early twenties, how I assumed that everything would pretty much stay the way it was; that I didn't need to pay attention to how the days speed by and how time just seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of me. It didn't take such a long time to figure out that that is not the way it works - people come and go; events come and go; passions flow and ebb; all part of the circle of the journey of our lives. Let's make a deal, shall we, to remember, each day, those we love and tell them so.
In the class I am attending on "Year to Live" at Common Ground, one of the parts of the process is to write letters of appreciation to those who have impacted our lives, no matter how large or small. Each time I pick up a pen or pencil to write, I am reminded of a dear teach at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School in Glendale, California by the name of Mrs. Wendt. She taught penmanship and, as I am left-handed and was instructed, as we all were, to place my paper angled toward the left side of my desk, started out writing with my wrist bend over. This dear lady was progressive enough and patient enough to place my paper the other way, angled toward the right side so I could write with my wrist relaxed and straight. It took months and months for anyone to be able to read my writing, and, finally, it did come together. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Mrs. Wendt! You live in my heart and memory! Thank you!
Thanks for it all!
In the class I am attending on "Year to Live" at Common Ground, one of the parts of the process is to write letters of appreciation to those who have impacted our lives, no matter how large or small. Each time I pick up a pen or pencil to write, I am reminded of a dear teach at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School in Glendale, California by the name of Mrs. Wendt. She taught penmanship and, as I am left-handed and was instructed, as we all were, to place my paper angled toward the left side of my desk, started out writing with my wrist bend over. This dear lady was progressive enough and patient enough to place my paper the other way, angled toward the right side so I could write with my wrist relaxed and straight. It took months and months for anyone to be able to read my writing, and, finally, it did come together. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Mrs. Wendt! You live in my heart and memory! Thank you!
Thanks for it all!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Dichotomy, paradox or ? ? ?
Good Sunday morning, dear readers!
Have you ever wondered, I wonder, about how to reconcile these two prevalent adminitions? "Don't be a human doing, be a human being" and "Actions speak louder than words"? One of my mother's favorites was "Who you are speaks so loud I can't hear what you are saying". So, which is it? Or is it both? Or is it none of the above? Personally, while I love to hear the words "I love you", I truly want and need to have the actions of the speakers be consistent with the words. I want to show those I care about, with what I do, as well as with what I say. One of my favorite words around this idea is "congruence". There needs to be a match. There needs to be consistency. I sure would be interested in hearing/reading what you may have to offer on the subject.
I send good wishes and prayers your way, today! May the sun shine warmly on your face, the rain fall softly on your head and the wind blow gently on your back (or words to that effect!).
Thanks for it all!
Have you ever wondered, I wonder, about how to reconcile these two prevalent adminitions? "Don't be a human doing, be a human being" and "Actions speak louder than words"? One of my mother's favorites was "Who you are speaks so loud I can't hear what you are saying". So, which is it? Or is it both? Or is it none of the above? Personally, while I love to hear the words "I love you", I truly want and need to have the actions of the speakers be consistent with the words. I want to show those I care about, with what I do, as well as with what I say. One of my favorite words around this idea is "congruence". There needs to be a match. There needs to be consistency. I sure would be interested in hearing/reading what you may have to offer on the subject.
I send good wishes and prayers your way, today! May the sun shine warmly on your face, the rain fall softly on your head and the wind blow gently on your back (or words to that effect!).
Thanks for it all!
Friday, November 6, 2009
This moment, this very NOW
In the process of the "Year to Live" class at Common Ground, it was suggested that a daily journal entry would be helpful. For years, in the past, I had done so and somehow the practice got away from me. When I re-started that spiritual practice, I picked up a daily meditation book that had been my morning companion for years ("Journey to the Heart" by Melody Beattie, copyright 1996, published by Harper Collins). I am prohibited from quoting directly from her writing and so I will paraphrase this morning's message: It is tempting sometimes to think we have to be in a special place at a special time in a special kind of apparel having followed a special diet, etc., etc., etc. As it turns out, the most sacred, most spiritual, most holy moment, place, space, is the one we are occupying at this very moment! I was quite taken aback by that idea this morning as the past few days have found me feeling much more sadness than joy; much more anxiety than serenity. Can those "negative" feelings be holy? Can't I just ignore them and go on to the much more "positive" feelings?
"Well, no, of course not!" I hear myself saying. If God, the Holy, the Sacred, the Great Spirit, is Love, then surely I can bring all of myself to that Center and find acceptance and comfort regardless of how I am feeling.
"And every moment is a spiritual experience - every moment informs us - informs our lives and answers the questions: Where am I this moment? Who am I this moment? Why am I this moment? How am I this moment? I listen to the wee small voice within - my inner sense of what, who, where and why. Precious gift! Grace-filled gift! Power-filled gift!" (The words I wrote earlier this AM.)
Dear readers, may we all say, with one heart and one intention -
Thanks for it all! ! !
"Well, no, of course not!" I hear myself saying. If God, the Holy, the Sacred, the Great Spirit, is Love, then surely I can bring all of myself to that Center and find acceptance and comfort regardless of how I am feeling.
"And every moment is a spiritual experience - every moment informs us - informs our lives and answers the questions: Where am I this moment? Who am I this moment? Why am I this moment? How am I this moment? I listen to the wee small voice within - my inner sense of what, who, where and why. Precious gift! Grace-filled gift! Power-filled gift!" (The words I wrote earlier this AM.)
Dear readers, may we all say, with one heart and one intention -
Thanks for it all! ! !
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Those unanswerable questions
Yesterday, a dear friend asked me "So who told you you couldn't make mistakes?" I was so taken aback that I didn't immediately answer the question. It just sort of brewed and simmered and came out of my pen this morning. Making mistakes was/is a cause of shame in me. I don't remember being shamed, in particular, by my mother although I do remember her mantra to me was "never do anything that I would be ashamed of". Strange that I would remember that this minute and not while I was journaling. What came out then was that to make a mistake, was to be wrong and to be wrong was to be set aside, separated, cast away, not a part of, no longer belonging. I probably don't need to tell you, and I will anyway - those ideas and feelings have been following me as long as I can remember. Most often, the remarks my elementary school teachers would make on my report cards were "Carol Ann does not take criticism well". Later on in life, a boss pointed out that when a mistake of mine was uncovered, I didn't take it well. And here it is again.
One of the most potent and remarkable things of the 12-step program of which I was a member for many years, was the understanding that when "stuff" comes up, it is because we are at the precise place and space to face it, look it square in the eye, acknowledge it, embrace it and come to peace with it. So, dear reader, once again, I take that little blue-eyed girl in my arms, enfold her, stroke her hair, rock her gently to and fro, and with all the love and compassion in my heart, I tell her "You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. Just as you are, you are loved." She puts her hand on my cheek and pats it ever so softly and says "I love you, too!"
And, indeed, I do!
Thanks for it all!
One of the most potent and remarkable things of the 12-step program of which I was a member for many years, was the understanding that when "stuff" comes up, it is because we are at the precise place and space to face it, look it square in the eye, acknowledge it, embrace it and come to peace with it. So, dear reader, once again, I take that little blue-eyed girl in my arms, enfold her, stroke her hair, rock her gently to and fro, and with all the love and compassion in my heart, I tell her "You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. Just as you are, you are loved." She puts her hand on my cheek and pats it ever so softly and says "I love you, too!"
And, indeed, I do!
Thanks for it all!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Favorite books by Matthew Fox
Good morning, dear readers: This morning the writings of Matthew Fox spring to mind. Each morning as I drink my coffee, pet my kitty, read the newspaper, etc., I also find my eyes wandering through the titles of the books on the shelf. There is one shelf that holds about 20 or so books by this esteemed writer/priest. I was introduced to him by Dr. Rocco Errico in the late '80s, when I attended his "Church of Daily Living" in Irvine, CA. The particular recommendation at that time was "The Coming of the Cosmic Christ". What a revelation to read his words of inclusion. "Kingdom/Queendom of God" particularly caught my attention. Just about knocked me off my chair, to be honest. The next book purchased as "Original Blessing" which created quite a stir in the Vatican. His very first book "Whee! We, wee" drew a strong reprimand from then Cardinal Ratzinger (forgive me if I have misspelled his name - he is now Pope Benedict). A couple of books later and Matt was silenced by the Vatican for a year. He spent that time traveling among the indigenous peoples of South America. Some years later, he left the Dominicans and is now an Episcoplian Priest. His life story is chronicled in "Confessions of a Post-Modern Priest". Please do give his writings a thoughtful read. It is time well spent!
Our commitment to community, to life shared, to compassionate support, is our heart-line to love!
Thanks for it all!
Our commitment to community, to life shared, to compassionate support, is our heart-line to love!
Thanks for it all!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
New month, new time zone, new . . everything!
Good morning, dear readers! Although my computer clock says 7:29 AM, it feels an hour later. Last night - well, this morning - was the time to turn the clocks back one hour. I have been up since 5AM - couldn't stay in bed any longer. I am grateful for the sake of the school kids who have zero period, like my grandson, who had to be at school while it was still dark. At least now there will be a bit of daylight for them to start their school day. I do wish, a whole lot, that the powers that be would just leave the clock time at "standard time". The old rational for the change has long gone by the boards in my estimation!
This is indeed a very, very special day. I get to celebrate the 75th birthday of a dear, dear friend this afternoon. Her family is hosting and, I assume, toasting her for attaining this milestone. I am so honored to be included in the festivities.
And, from her party, I will proceed to the celebration of my grandson's (Quinn) 4th birthday. His birthday is actully on the 6th and celebrating today will not make one iota of difference to him or to us who get to share in his wonderfully exciting and energetic world! Am I not blessed to be a witness to the span of years covered by these parties? Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!
And so, my dear ones, with that in mind and with deep and abiding thankfulness for your attention and tenderness with these words that flow from me, I wish you the very best Sunday ever!
Thanks for it all!
This is indeed a very, very special day. I get to celebrate the 75th birthday of a dear, dear friend this afternoon. Her family is hosting and, I assume, toasting her for attaining this milestone. I am so honored to be included in the festivities.
And, from her party, I will proceed to the celebration of my grandson's (Quinn) 4th birthday. His birthday is actully on the 6th and celebrating today will not make one iota of difference to him or to us who get to share in his wonderfully exciting and energetic world! Am I not blessed to be a witness to the span of years covered by these parties? Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!
And so, my dear ones, with that in mind and with deep and abiding thankfulness for your attention and tenderness with these words that flow from me, I wish you the very best Sunday ever!
Thanks for it all!
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